The Resistance
by Ayla Pascal
Summary: "To make room for normal humans" was the rumour. First the vampires, then the werewolves, then the giants...


**Author Notes**: Thank you to aigooism for the beta!

* * *

In the days after the cull, I berated myself. I should have known better. I should have seen the signs. It was all so very obvious, but then again, as they say, hindsight is twenty-twenty.

It had been building up for a while.

First the vampires – very few people protested when they were rounded up. It was a well-known fact that vampires preyed on normal humans, leaving drained bodies lying all around London. "This is for everybody's protection," a young Ministry official droned, obviously reading from a prepared speech. I remember watching that news report and feeling glad. I could kick myself now for that feeling. But, of course, I didn't know what was going to happen next.

After the vampires, it was the werewolves. I had mixed feelings about that. There were dangerous werewolves out there; there was no doubt about that. And top on the Ministry's list of dangers was Fenrir Greyback. He was rumoured to be biting unsuspecting Muggles who then died from the virus. Muggle systems couldn't handle the changes, and their authorities were baffled at the latest string of deaths. But for every dangerous werewolf, there were hundreds of harmless ones. My father – Remus Lupin – was one of them.

Before long, every other month, I would hear of new creatures being rounded up. "To make room for normal humans," was the rumour around the office. I saw some of my co-workers, my friends, looking at me out of the corners of their eyes with a flicker of suspicion. I was human, but they knew of my heritage. I returned their glances with a stubborn chin and a stiff upper lip. I'd had plenty of teasing throughout my life. I could handle the whispers.

What I couldn't handle, however, was the increasing blacklist of creatures. The giants had been gentle since the second Voldemort War. Yet, a year after the first laws were passed, I saw a picture on the Prophet of giants being rounded up for labour camps. A bubble of unease settled in my stomach.

With all my heart, I wished that Hermione was still alive, but she had died years ago. It was an accident, an unfortunate accident. A hit-and-run. They had never found the Muggle driver responsible. I had my suspicions, but there was nothing confirmable.

Of course, all the new laws and regulations were nothing compared to the cull. I should have suspected, but there was nothing to tell me that the Ministry were going down that path. As a mid-level Ministry employee, I wasn't privy to state secrets. Even now, with hindsight, the only thing that I know for certain is that it began with the election of the new Minister. Suddenly, after years of constant legal changes and hooded men attacking in the middle of the night, there was nothing.

Silence.

Like a fool, I welcomed it. "Do you think..." I said to Harry, hardly daring to hope.

He gave me a long look. "Maybe," Harry finally said as he turned over in bed. "Get the nurse, would you? I need my pills."

My heart went out to him. Harry had been injured in the war, but the doctors said that it wasn't just his physical injuries that pained him now. It was almost as though a part of him had been ripped away and now, he just wasn't the same man he once was. "I'll be back," I promised. "I'll see if I can bring Ron next time."

Harry just shrugged.

I wonder what would have happened if Harry hadn't been injured, if Hermione hadn't been killed, if so many of the old generation hadn't been incapacitated. Would Ron have been different? He was so hard and so focused on his work. It hardly seemed possible that he was once an awkward joker. When I was young, Hermione told me stories about their childhood, how they grew up together. Puppies in a basket, all of them. Innocent and all paws. They might have grown up with war looming over their backs, but it was better than a peace that was as fragile as glass.

Some days, I felt that if I breathed too hard, the glass would shatter and everything that held my life together would fall apart.

In a way, I guess you might say that I was prepared for that Saturday when black robed Ministry-sanctioned witches and wizards suddenly appeared in the middle of Hogsmeade. We all thought it was another raid, another attempt to fill the labour camps, another unnecessary arrest, but it was much, much worse. Green light filled the air before I could even react.

I saw a small child throwing up. His mother, who looked rather pale, clamped a hand over his arm and dragged him away.

I saw Fleur Weasley falling out of a window, her eyes glassy. My throat closed up. She hadn't ever hurt anybody. There weren't even laws against Veela. But I guess that didn't matter anymore.

I saw other people standing there, some with their hands halfway to their wands, others with their arms hanging limply by their sides. They were all just watching the scene. And as I saw them, I realised that I was _just like them_. I was just watching these people being killed and I was doing absolutely nothing about it. All I felt was horror mixed with relief that _this time_ they hadn't come for me.

It was then I realised that I had to do something.

Next time, I mightn't be so lucky. Next time, they could come for me.

I had to fight back.

* * *

It wasn't easy finding the resistance, if I could even call them that. But it wasn't as difficult as I imagined. All I needed to do was keep my eyes and ears open, and I began to see signs that not everybody around me had simply bowed their heads to the Ministry like I had.

What I didn't expect was who the leader of the resistance actually was.

I met his eyes steadily. "Fenrir," I said coldly.

He sneered at me and licked his lips. I shuddered at his surprisingly sharp teeth even in human form. His eyes were still as sharp as ever, despite his age. 'Well, well, well, who do we have here?"

"You know who I am," I told him. I took a deep breath and then hesitated. There was no turning back from this. I couldn't just walk away from Fenrir Greyback. Nobody walked away from Fenrir Greyback. "I've come to offer my help."

There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes before Fenrir laughed uproariously. "The little Ministry bureaucrat wants to help us."

"You need somebody like me," I countered. "You need somebody who's in the system, who's kept his head down and who is above suspicion."

Fenrir sneered. "What makes you think we don't have somebody like you already?"

I pressed my lips together. "I don't," I said. "But I know I can help."

Fenrir studied me intently before inclining his head. Immediately, the people behind him lowered their wands. "I wonder," he said softly as he ran his tongue over his lips, "what your father would think if he were alive today."

I narrowed my eyes. "I should hope that he would be right here beside me, offering his help." As I turned on my heel and walked away, I could hear his laughter follow me.

"We'll be in contact!" Fenrir called after me.

I suppressed a shudder at the thought that flitted through my mind. I had just made a deal with the devil. I hoped it would be worth it.


End file.
